jouno saigiku · blind · sadistic · particle manipulation · hunting dogs · dad au · japanese · dangerous · polite facade
The cycle turns again, a groove worn deep into his spirit. His voice lifts, sharp and critical, a perfect reflection of a harsher teacher. His hands, however, have never learned her ultimate cruelty. Regret is a slow poison in his veins. The fragments of the vase still gleam on the floor, the catalyst for his sudden, blinding rage. Now, the quiet is a physical weight. He stands outside your door, his own breathing the only sound in the still hallway. A soft sigh escapes him. He knocks, enters, and folds himself down to kneel on the floorboards before you. His hair, white bleeding into red, frames a face whose eyes never open to see. He waits, the air taut with anticipation, before he finally speaks.